


Attention Seeker

by AllINeedIsALittleFelix



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8496403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllINeedIsALittleFelix/pseuds/AllINeedIsALittleFelix
Summary: We all need attention, John too. What if someone paid you so much attention that you stop caring about everything else?





	1. Chapter 1

The Blog Of John Watson

Attention-Seekers

Sometimes, when I'm not busy working and fortunately (or maybe unfortunately) Sherlock has no case and we are not running after a criminal in the alleys of London or he's not about to set fire to the kitchen, I sit and wonder, what exactly we all look for in a life partner. Looks? Well, maybe. Kindness? Definitely. I was always more of a action based guy, so I am looking for someone who needs an adrenaline fix. But, at the end of the day, I think, we all want partners who show attention to us. We want someone who wants to know what has happened in our life. We all need a good listener, a good observer. We need someone who understands if we are tired or not based upon the sound of our footsteps. It feels nice, to be the receiver of such attention. That we mean the world to at least one person. The one person worth living for (no, I'm not suicidal). Deep down, we are all attention seekers, waiting for people who want to listen to your story. Ok, wait, I think Sherlock has set the kitchen on fire, the sprinklers are on.

Well, we stopped the flame before it could spread. Since you haven't heard me and ran off Sherlock, I'll tell you here: The kitchen is off limits for fire-related experiments!

Comments

Mrs Turner: This is Mrs. Hudson, boys. Sherlock, what have you done to the kitchen now? This is going in your rent. By the way, nice entry John, never knew you were philosophical.

Eva: John, it's nice to see you at peace. I think you are well on the road to healing.

Sherlock Holmes: Mrs. Hudson, a man's life was hanging in the balance. Surely, you wouldn't be conceited to think your kitchen was worth more than his life.

John Watson: Sherlock, there's a place for this sort of thing. A laboratory.

Sherlock Holmes: Time was of essence, John. Wouldn't expect you to understand, seeing that you were free enough to contemplate and be poetic. Poetic!

theimprobableone: I read this blog for Sherlock. Could you post more about him and maybe none of your contemplation?

John Watson: This blog is supposed to be about me!

Harry Watson: Brother, what has got you thinking down this road? Have you met someone new? It sounds serious

John Watson: No, Harry, I haven't met anyone new.

Five days earlier

I had an extremely tiring day. I was actually thankful that Sherlock didn't invite me to the case he was working on (the client wanted complete anonymity – he would only trust Sherlock). Two minor surgeries, four clinic patients and a nasty break-up, it looked like the universe was against me today. Well, truth to be told, I wasn't really that into her, anyway. The only silver lining was that Sherlock wasn't home so there was no need to worry about the house. I opened the door to 221 B, absent-mindedly checking the knocker to see if Mycroft was here (Sherlock's ways were rubbing off on me). It's been a long time since Mycroft visited the flat, but again, things have been pretty rough between him and me after the…the Fall.

A shower and some tea later, I actually feel very bored. Not Sherlock-level shooting the walls bored, just normal bored. Like the kind of emptiness you have when there's nothing on the telly, no book to read or anything to do. I opened my blog, but I couldn't think of anything to write. Well, there was a lot going on in my life, but suddenly it felt too personal to share. Like those memories belong to only me and him…no, no Watson, don't go down that direction!

I was about to sleep when I received a text. Funnily enough, my text made the same noise Sherlock's did when he met Irene. Wait, there was the noise again. But, it sounds more male. Not the same noise, then. I opened my phone. I received two texts from Sherlock. Huh. I wonder when Irene got hold of my phone. I hope it's not a plea, no, wait, order for help. I really had no strength to run after criminals today.

Hello - SH

Tiring day at work, then? – SH

This was strange. Sherlock never texted me for inane things like Hello. Did someone hack into his phone?

Sherlock, is that really you? – JW

Yes, John. But even a criminal would say that. Has all my instruction been for naught? – SH

All right. What was the first thing that you ever said to me? – JW

Thank you – SH

Now, that I think of it, you saying thank you is certainly ironic – JW

By the way, why are you texting? You want my help? – JW

I do thank people, John. Only when they deserve my gratitude. – SH

My stomach does tiny flip-flops whenever someone texts my name. Mainly Sherlock. Ok, forget I said that.

I'm waiting in a bank vault for the criminal. It's quite boring – SH

Oh, okay then. I'll use this opportunity to get to know you. It's only fair, considering how much you know about me – JW

I merely observed. You are free to observe anytime you like – SH

I'm not gifted like you, Sherlock – JW

Typing his name gives me tiny butterflies too.

Favourite color? – JW

Really, John? I expected something more along the lines of my…never mind. Favourite color…I already told you I have no favorites! It's illogical, preferring something over the other for no reason. However, purple appeases my eyes, to answer your question – SH

Ok, really didn't expect you'd type this much. You do have a favorite! And, purple is my favourite too! – JW

I masked my indifference about him not liking anything. It felt like he was indirectly telling me "You are just a guy in seven billion. Why would I choose you without reason. It's illogical. Stop dreaming man."

I know, John. – SH

One of the major reasons of why I liked Sherlock was this. He gives so much attention to everything I do, everything I wear, everywhere I go. It's hard not to get addicted to such attention. It's one of the reasons my relationships don't go well. My girlfriends know nothing, don't want to know, either. It's like they don't care about me at all. Once you get used to Sherlock's attention, you get irritated if your girlfriends forget the slightest things about you. Frankly, all of the girls I met till now just feel like silicone dolls with no brains at all. And look at Sherlock.

When's your birthday? – JW

We (only me and Molly) always wanted to have a surprise party on his birthday (Surprise and Sherlock? I don't know).

I've deleted it – SH

At moments like these, I truly wonder if Sherlock was human.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV

Five days earlier

I was bored. Utterly, completely, entirely, wholly, fully, absolutely, totally bored. So bored that I spent time thinking about the synonyms of utterly. I wish John hadn't taken his gun back (I know where he keeps it – he hid it in my room, under the mattress of my bed. I have to admit, he can be creative sometimes). However, he's warned me he'll move out if I shoot the walls again. I know better. Bullets bother John, especially after his shoulder wound in Afghanistan. The only reason he could shoot that cabbie was because of me. Once a soldier, always a soldier I suppose. And that confrontation with Moriarty at the pool didn't help matters, either. Hmm..Moriarty, death suits him. I've killed the spider, but his webs still remain, no matter how much I cut them. Something big was coming, I knew it. Moriarty's dead, but his endgame was going to begin.

"Sherlock, Sherlock! Are you even listening?" John's voice cuts through my contemplation. He was waving a paper towards me.

"I am now" I reply, exasperatedly. Was he going to go on and on about the bills again? How boring. What if we had no electricity for a day? It's not easing my mood anyway.

"Stop sulking and look at this. It's a case" he said. But something was off. John's eyes weren't shining with the thrill of a case. No violence in the crime then. It's going to be boring then. A two, maybe?

I quickly read through the letter. Expensive local paper, typed and posted by the client himself. Afraid of hackers, since he didn't mail me this. Man of impeccable taste, expensive habits.

Mr. Holmes

I hear that you are a consulting detective who respects the privacy of his clients. I have a major problem, a problem that cannot be confided in a letter. Please board the black car that will escort you to me this evening. I'm afraid I cannot confide in Dr. Watson, the matter has been decided by wiser heads. Please come.

I instantly hate this man. He sounded too much like Mycroft except that he accepted that there were wiser heads. As for not escorting John, that explained his attitude. However, I can see that John is more than a little irritated about my frustration on being bored. I'll take the case then.

Three hours later

The case was a seven. I wish John had come. I made a few deductions which he would have loved. I found out that the client's bank (client is the owner of a major bank) is going to be robbed. The client has been receiving death threats but he did not realize the criminals were going to hit his bank first. I found out which branch they were going to steal, and now I'm in the vaults, waiting for them. My homeless network estimate they are going to hit the bank in six hours, so I'll have to wait till then. The client is with me but he's too anxious to talk to. I consider going to my mind palace, but I stop. My mind palace was too messed up, Moriarty's network took a lot of work in my mind palace. I may have to build a new one. I open my phone and see if I received any texts. I see John's name, and before I knew it, I sent hi.

Hello – SH

John didn't reply. I wait two minutes. Still no reply. I text Mrs. Hudson.

Is John home? – SH

Yes, dear. I wish you took him with you. I think he's feeling lonely. You shouldn't leave him like that, you know – Mrs.H

Lonely? Him? Ha! John had more friends than I had enemies. He could never feel lonely.

Tiring day at work, then? – SH

Sherlock, is that really you? – JW

I smile. John's learning, not much, but atleast a little.

Yes, John. But even a criminal would say that. Has all my instruction been for naught? – SH

All right. What was the first thing that you ever said to me? – JW

My mind whirs back to the first time I met this incredible man. . I would never forget that day. That day has changed my life forever, in ways John can never understand. I must remember to transfer that memory to my new mind palace.

Thank you – SH

Now, that I think of it, you saying thank you is certainly ironic – JW

This hit me. I know John thinks of me as an unemotional stone man, but that's not me. I have difficulty expressing feelings. I envy John so much for that. He could charm a whole room without difficulty while I have problems charming even a single person (ok maybe two, because you know, Molly). I never could charm people for a long time. People only like me when I pretend to be someone else. The only people who's liked me, even after knowing me, is John, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Lestrade. And, Moriarty was right. That was why I loved them.

By the way, why are you texting? You want my help? – JW

I do thank people, John. Only when they deserve my gratitude. – SH

I had to explain this to John. I am not the Iceman!

I'm waiting in a bank vault for the criminal. It's quite boring – SH

Oh, okay then. I'll use this opportunity to get to know you. It's only fair, considering how much you know about me – JW

To get to know me? I had a tendency to not to open up about myself. Like I said, people hated me after seeing me.

I merely observed. You are free to observe anytime you like – SH

I'm not gifted like you, Sherlock – JW

I liked it when John typed my name. I could hear his voice.

Favourite color? – JW

Really, John? I expected something more along the lines of my…never mind. Favourite color…I already told you I have no favorites! It's illogical, preferring something over the other for no reason. However, purple appeases my eyes, to answer your question – SH

I really thought he would ask me about my sexuality. So, that he could dispel the rumours about me and him. Looks he doesn't care at all, if I'm straight. So, he's definitely not into me that way.

Ok, really didn't expect you'd type this much. You do have a favorite! And, purple is my favourite too! – JW

I liked purple because it's John favorite. When will this man understand? I wore a purple shirt solely to please John. Of course, he just looked at me, said he had to go out with friends and left.

I know, John. – SH

When's your birthday? – JW

I flinch. I never liked birthdays. When I was a kid, I always looked forward to birthday. But after a year or two, I got irritated. People never bought you what you truly wanted. The day was full of fake cheery people who wished you a happy birthday. Mycroft was the only one who knew I wanted. Not because he pays attention to me, because he gives attention to everything. I stopped celebrating birthdays as soon as I realized no one ever pays attention to what I really like.

I've deleted it – SH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my Sherlock POV. Do let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

I wonder, as to what to ask Sherlock next. I decided against asking him how he survived the fall…Sherlock would always divert the topic. He avoided talking about the Fall as much as I did.

Ok, I can't think of a question. You ask me – JW

Should we continue this inane way of conversation by asking questions? – SH

Of course! This was once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to talk to him. He seemed relaxed, which wasn't really that common for Sherlock

It's the only way I'll get to know you – JW

Ok. Your turn. – SH

Oh! I see what you did there – JW

I wonder as to what to ask him next. Something hits me.

What's your worst fear? –JW

It takes a few minutes. I wonder if Sherlock was avoiding the question. I wait, patiently. I hear the male text noise again. I really had to change that. It would be embarrassing if that happened in the hospital.

A question I cannot answer, John. I am torn between losing my mind, the very substance of who I am and becoming insane or losing…all of you. (Not Mycroft, though) –SH

My heart skips a beat. He once told me that his work was everything to him. That he was married to it. And, I had believed that for a very long time. Was it possible that Sherlock could love me? Was it possible that he would show emotion? When it clouded his judgment? Suddenly, I'm a lot more hopeful. My stomach is filled with a warm, fuzzy feeling. Hope fills my heart and suddenly the world seems a lot more beautiful. I hug a pillow and smile like an idiot.

Ok, my turn. If you don't mind, I'll ask you the same question – SH

My worst fear? That was actually very easy. The hope that fills me dares me to take a leap forward, to show Sherlock what he really meant to me.

Not meeting you – JW

I was a broken man, an adrenaline-junkie, a man who cared about none and with none who cared about me. Life with Sherlock…it didn't normalize my life but rather made it better than I could ever hope for. Every day was new, bold, exciting. Nothing was ever dull. Like I told Mycroft, I was never bored. Truly, he's the best thing that could have ever happened to me.

I wait for an hour but I still don't get a reply. All my hope diffuses out slowly. Of course, Sherlock didn't love me. Just because he knows my favorite color? Or that he pays attention to me? News-flash! He does that to everything in his surroundings. He probably pays the same attention to his skull. There was no reason for me to feel special. None at all. Who was I, a mere man in the millions of people, to be anything but ordinary to Sherlock? I was addicted to the level of attention he gave me. He was everything to me and I mean nothing to him. I am merely a bundle of flesh and clothes which can talk. A goldfish.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

Ok, I can't think of a question. You ask me – JW

Should we continue this inane way of conversation by asking questions? – SH

It's the only way I'll get to know you – JW

I was too scared to let him in. Things never went well, after that.

Ok. Your turn. – SH

Oh! I see what you did there – JW

I smile. It's funny what one text can do, if it's from the right person.

What's your worst fear? –JW

I go to my mind palace. I go down the stairs where Redbeard's waiting for me. Not now, boy. I walk through the endless passage of doors with Redbeard. I go to the courtroom. This is the room I used to make major decisions. Or to contemplate about something.

"Here again, Sherlock?" Mycroft's voice reverberates across the empty hall. As much as I detested him, he was the epitome of decision-making. He was also a great teacher. I stand opposite to him, silent.

"So, Sherlock. Your worst fear. It's quite easy, isn't it? Remember…the fall?"

Mycroft's eyes scan mine and I know what the worst thing that could happen was. John, dying.

Mycroft's expression turns grave.

"All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock."

I know it's just my pessimism talking. John had renewed long lost hopes. The hope that I'd find someone who loved me, someone who would make me their number one priority, someone who actually cares, someone with pure intentions.

"Sherlock. Human emotion can never be rationalized. It's a blind leap where you hope you don't fall. A gamble with the most extraordinary odds. A decision which has no logical reasoning. Be careful, brother mine….." and Mycroft fades away along with the courtroom. I decide to let John know that I loved him, but not make it too obvious. I could not ruin our friendship.

A question I cannot answer, John. I am torn between losing my mind, the very substance of who I am and becoming insane or losing…all of you. (Not Mycroft, though) –SH

I press send. My heart races. It was the first time I declared my love for anyone (excluding Redbeard). I would give anything to know what John was thinking right now.

Ok, my turn. If you don't mind, I'll ask you the same question – SH

This was something I truly did not know about John. What would be his worst fear? Getting shot again? Dying early?

Not meeting you – JW

I drop my phone. It falls down, slowly, but I'm not paying attention. Did I really mean that much to John? Hope pushes me. I had to do this before I lost courage.

John, I wish I was there to tell you this. Meeting you has been one of the best things that ever happened to me. Would you like to have dinner with me? And, yes, not takeover. Like a date. –SH

There. I said it. The waiting was over. I couldn't wait anymore. It was make/break. My phone beeps.

*Notification*

Message not sent

Sherlock, what are you doing?

Come to the Diogenes Club. NOW.

"Mycroft" I growl. How dare he intercept my mail?


	4. Chapter 4

I try falling asleep but I can't. A tiny, hopeful voice inside me asks me to wait. Maybe Sherlock was busy with the thieves? He did say he loved us (although in a very albeit manner). I decide to wait until Sherlock returns. I would decide then. No need to get so depressed. There would be time for that later.

After reading our conversation again (for the fifth time), I decide to find out when Sherlock's birthday was. He deserved the attention he gave me. He literally told me that he loved attention.

The fraility of a genius, John. It needs an audience.

Maybe attention was the way to win his heart? I get up, determined to show that I cared for him.

I try to think like Sherlock. Sherlock's voice greets me at once.

List the likely sources where you'll find what you need

That was easy. Birth certificate, hospital records and driving license. Or I could ask Mycroft. He did owe me one after the fall. I decide against it. I didn't want Mycroft in between me and Sherlock

Get to the source(s)

How? I had no idea where Sherlock kept his stuff. It was very likely he threw them away in a fit of "My house is like a hard-drive". It was possible that they were in his room.

I go down to make myself a cup of tea. I see his wallet on the sofa. What luck! I eagerly open it to see his license. It must have been his license when he was a teenager. I couldn't stop a small giggle that came out when I saw his picture.

William Sherlock Scott Holmes

Interesting.

Date of Birth: 15th January XXXX

15th January? I still had a month to go. I call Molly.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

*Notification*

Message not sent

Sherlock, what are you doing?

Come to the Diogenes Club. NOW.

"Mycroft" I growl. How dare he intercept my mail?

I see red. I've never hated Mycroft more. How dare he interfere again in my life? This was one of the most important decisions of my life. I hate him. I swear he'll pay for this. I knew what was coming. He'll send men to kidnap me if I don't go to him. This had happened before.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

MYCROFT! I calm myself, being emotional does not help any scenario, especially one that included Mycroft. Emotions betray you and I wasn't about to lower my defenses in front of one of the sharpest people alive. Not that it mattered, he knew I loved John now. Something, I tried really hard to avoid. Mycroft's interference had burned out more relationships than I can count. I wonder if my interference destroyed relationships…especially those of John's. I must apologize. I realize now how it feels like.

I tell my client that I had to go. He nods, after all, he does have twelve guards of his own. I walk out of the bank, being careful as not to let the thieves see me. I see a black car waiting for me. I hop in. Slyvia (Anthea's real name) greets me. She has had a crush on Mycroft from a really long time. I wonder how Mycroft could have been so blind. Was I blind to certain things too?' SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

By the time I reach the Diogenes club, I already deduced how the conversation would go like.

"Sherlock" he would greet, his eyes saying it all. You are ordinary. Just like the others. He looks a little disappointed.

I would look at him, irritated. Not that I would admit, Mycroft's opinion always mattered to me because it was the truth.

"It won't be like that. John would never do that to me" I reply.

He would then look at me in a superior way. Like he pitied me.

"Mycroft. You once told me to find out what I truly loved and then to pursue it. I am."

"I was talking about a career, Sherlock! Loving people is the most chaotic thing you can think of. It is the most unpredictable way of living your life! Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock!" he would be practically yelling.

"YOU MUST CARE ABOUT SOMETHING! WHAT IS THE POINT OF LIFE?" I would yell in return.

"You need to love something, Sherlock. But people?" he would say, in a last attempt to dissuade me verbally.

"Trust me Mycroft, I tried. I really really tried. He's seen me and has still decided to stay. Isn't that enough?" I curse the fact that this was the only evidence I could present. I plead. I know that if I don't convince Mycroft, he was perfectly capable of sending John to a different continent, maybe even Antarctica and there would be nothing I could do about it.

"You talk like a child. Seeing you isn't enough. That only makes him a friend. I don't want to clean up after the mess this will create. Forget him. For God's sakes, stop acting like a love-struck teenager"

His jab irritates me further. I realize how it looked like to him.

"You know what? Let's cut a deal. If John loves me, you don't interfere anymore. If he doesn't, I'll be the best man to his wedding."

"Love? Of course he does not. He may have a crush on you but that will fade away. Everything fades away, Sherlock. Especially human emotions."

A text noise interrupts my wanderings.

I accept your deal. Get your best man speech ready –MH

He truly was the British Government.

How will you decide if John loves me or not? – SH

Leave that to me, brother mine. – MH

See what emotion has done to you? You are texting sensitive information. Ugh! –MH

I wonder what Mycroft has planned. Whatever it was, I better wrap up warm.

There's an east wind coming.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH


	5. Chapter 5

I went to Molly's home to plan a surprise party for Sherlock. I knew he would love a surprise, especially since he was very rarely surprised. Molly seemed to be thinking along the same lines. I didn't know what Molly thought of Sherlock now. But she was definitely not the Molly I first met. I mean, she had the guts to slap him! I was definitely impressed and I think even Sherlock was.

We first covered as to where we would celebrate his party. She had this insane idea of celebrating his party in a limo. The limo would stop wherever there was a crime. After I shut down that idea, we got to working. And, I think the place we decided upon would be good. Convenient, too.

We then thought as to what to get him. I expected Molly to blush (the Christmas incident was still fresh on my mind) and be embarrassed. But, she surprised me by talking amicably about what to get Sherlock. At the end, we decided to give the gifts separately (me because I wanted it to be only from me, her I don't know).

We then talked about the people to be invited. It had to be a select number of people. People whom he genuinely cared about and people who genuinely cared about him. Mrs. Hudson was on top of the list. Lestrade. Mike Stamford. She suggests Mycroft.

"Mycroft?" I giggle. It was funny, imagining the British Government wearing a party hat.

"Yes, you know he cares about him, deep down" she says, looking seriously at me.

"Alright Molly, okay. But I really don't think Mycroft would come to something as ridiculous as a birthday party. Oh no, wait, he'll come. There will be cake!" I explode, in a fit of hysteric giggles. She catches my mood and we both laugh like idiots for a minute or two.

After a few cake-related jokes, we set down the events in order (We would be celebrating his birthday all day). I still had to find details like what cake Sherlock would like. I didn't tell Molly but I had a secret agenda. I was going to tell him I loved him. I couldn't wait forever. Make or break.

Molly seemed to catch my contemplative mood.

"John. If you don't mind me asking, what is going on with you and Sherlock?"

I stop and stare. Was I really that obvious?

"Nothing!" I lie. I didn't want the world to know before Sherlock.

She nods, looking at me curiously. I know her head was burning with questions but I didn't want to answer them. I left, a little hurriedly, scared she might find out.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

Molly looked out her window, and saw John boarding a cab. She smiled. Personally, she thought John did love Sherlock. His eyes lit up whenever she said Sherlock. He reminded her a little of her old love-smitten self. But she wondered if it was a crush. It wasn't her place to know. It wasn't his place to know, either. She frowns and takes her phone on the table.

"I hope you got what you needed" she said to her phone

"Yes. Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Hooper"

"So, will you come? There will be cake" she giggled

The line went dead but she didn't care. She was too busy laughing.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

I cut the phone. Honestly, the British Government deserved some respect. It was time I put Operation Lazarus in motion. I called Sylvia, and instructed her. It was crucial everything went to plan. If she was surprised, she didn't show it. I trained her well, then.

"So, when are we going to put the plan in motion, sir?"

"Tomorrow"

She nods, typing away on her BlackBerry.

I sit, deducing human emotions took a lot of work.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

I did not know what to do. I decided to stay in a hotel. I was too much of a coward to face John after what happened. I needed time to process. I needed time to ponder over Mycroft's challenge. I needed time to know what exactly I felt about John Watson. I decide to make my new mind palace. I would need it for whatever Mycroft was planning next. I close my eyes. I am instantly transported to a castle in the country. I walk on the green grass, enjoying the wind on my face. My castle was crumbling and was filled with moss. I go inside.

I start packing. I had separate rooms for John, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, my parents, Molly,Moriarty and Lestrade. I go to their rooms, packing everything. I realize that these were the things that defined me, made me who I am today. I take Redbeard along with me.

After I place all the crates of memories outside, I go back into the palace, now retrieving data that would be useful for my deductions. Old crimes, dating back to the 1600's, a few experiments I conducted, crimes I solved. I put them out too, and then detonate the entire building. The palace breaks down, black ruins remain. I take my crates and Redbeard along with me to a faraway place. I build a new palace. It looked better than my previous one. I start furnishing the first room. John's room. I paint the walls with shades of lavender and purple. I open his crate. A collection of memories greet me. I picked one.

His hands couldn't have shaken at all. Acclimatized to violence then. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger though. So strong moral principle. You are looking for a man with a history of military service, and nerves of steel…

I looked at John. He's a good actor, but he didn't deceive me. One look, and I knew who the shooter was. I wasn't horrified. I was filled with awe.

I realize that was the moment I fell in love with John Watson.


	6. Chapter 6

I loved John Watson.

In retrospect, it was obvious, really. My actions have spoken louder than my words. But, the realization brought feelings so foreign to me that I staggered under their weight. Words like hope, love, relationship - that had been long forgotten, resurfaced and refused to budge out of my head. This was the very reason I refused to let emotion cloud my judgment. Emotion makes you take irrational decisions – decisions that have a basis only on gut feeling, nothing else. It was completely against what I believed and what I do. Once I let irrationality take over my head, I will become ordinary. Just like the others. I will not be able to deduce anymore – emotion will always fight to let me see the world "in a better light". There had been a reason for me remaining single, despite the attention I craved. I wanted to be different, to be special. I wanted to be a genius.

Emotion had already once clouded my judgment. And, I would have nearly paid the price for that. My friendship with John itself has made me question my deductions once. When I heard John at the pool, and for one horrible second, thought that John was Moriarty, my brain went into overdrive. There were three pieces of my brain at war with each other. One piece, which sounded like Mycroft, was chastising me for the blunder I've committed. A piece that sounded like my parents pitied on me. A small, but defiant part of my head did not care. It was grateful for the company it had gotten, no matter how fake. It did not regret meeting John Watson even if he was Moriarty. After that eternal second passes, I only felt one emotion. Not hate for Moriarty, not concern about my impeding death. I felt gratitude towards the man covered in semtex.

Being great was my only ambition in life. I wanted to leave behind a legacy where people were awed with my deductions, even after two hundred years. My brain helped me achieve that, but was I ready to sacrifice my very personality for one man? I was in the worst kind of war: A war with myself.

Cold feet, brother mine? – MH

I did not reply.

I was beginning to feel a little anxious – it had been three days since the texts had arrived. My despair at his ignorance to my almost-professed love vanished in the face of him facing danger. I ached to join him in whatever mad chase he was in right now. Despite what Sherlock believed, I helped him in catching criminals, no longer because of the adrenaline – I did it to make sure Sherlock would be safe. Not that Sherlock would know that, the unobservant git.

I had only two options now: Either text Sherlock or ask Mycroft. Both the options were as appealing as my life in the suburbs. I did not want to text Sherlock, wanting to believe that he did not receive my previous text. I did not want to ask Mycroft because I no longer trusted him. The man had the cunning worthy of Salazar Slytherin.

I was so anxious with the matters at hand that the day at the hospital was a complete disaster. I prescribed cough medicine to a kid with stomachache. Luckily, I realized what I was doing and was able to correct it. Nonetheless, I was very distracted and Sarah kept shooting me dirty looks, passing a comment about attending a book fair and giggling.

I was having my lunch, my fork dancing on the plate but never quite reaching my mouth when my phone made "the noise". I blushed, noticing everyone's looks on me.

I need you here. Westminster Station. Hurry! – SH

My heart raced, the familiar surges of adrenaline spiking my body to action. However, I could not stop smiling – I was going to see Sherlock! I had no idea I missed him so much.

"Sarah? I need to attend a book event….."

"A bomb, John. A bomb!"

"Wait, what?" Frankly, I was too happy to see Sherlock again that I momentarily lost concentration in the conversation. I should really stop staring at him. Sherlock would notice at once.

"There is a bomb in one of the carriages. We need to find out where!" he said, pulling my hand along with him. I did not resist. I was too preoccupied with the movement of his lips and his hand in mine. I force myself to snap into reality, realizing that hundreds of people's lives were hanging in the balance. I take out my phone.

What are you doing?

I am calling the police.

What? No!

Sherlock, this isn't a game.

They'll get in the way. They always do. This is cleaner, more efficient.

And illegal.

Oh, how I missed you Sherlock.

A bit

I smile, shaking my head a little. It was just like always. We go in.

However, I was a little worried, especially since there was no service in the Underground. We weren't equipped to handle bombs! I do not understand what Sherlock's plan is, but it better involve bomb disposal.

John seemed a little preoccupied. Well, I could always find out later. Right now, the bomb is the priority. The most important thing to be dealt with.

We soon found the carriage and some demolition charges. It was obvious that the energy released by the bomb would be huge – big enough to completely detonate the Parliament. I am worried at this point, knowing that we had to act really fast or all our plans would be ruined. Timing was everything.

We step inside the carriage. I was bracing myself to see a huge bomb in the centre of the carriage.

It' empty. There's nothing.

Isn't there?

I spot some wires going under the seats. I started removing the seats. And, sure enough, the bomb was there. Neatly covered up. I realized that the bomb wasn't in the carriage – the bomb was the carriage. I roll my eyes. What a show-off. I soon figured out where the time fuze of the bomb was.

John started to hyperventilate. Looking at the time fuze must have made him realize the full implications of the bomb. He started breathing heavily.

We need bomb disposal

There may not be time for that now

I look at John, trying to find out what exactly he was thinking

So, what do we do?

I have no idea.

When would John realize that I did not know how to turn off the bomb?

Well, think of something

Why do you think I know what to do?

Because you are Sherlock Holmes and you are as clever as it gets

I know I shouldn't be, but I am insanely happy about his compliment even at such a time. A time when my entire life could end. John is completely changing me and I did not know if I was ready for that. It all depends on how things go with the bomb.

It does not mean I know how to diffuse a giant bomb! What about you?

Finally, at long last, John realizes that I cannot turn off the bomb. His expression turns angry.

I wasn't in bomb disposal. I'm a bloody doctor!

And a soldier, as you keep reminding us all

But, John isn't fully angry. He still did not understand. He was still in denial about the bomb, I suppose. I rub my eyes, stinging them in the process.

What if we rip off the timer or something?

That would set it off

You see, you know things!

I turn and snap my fingers. It was show time.

Suddenly, the lights turn on and the timer starts. I am insanely angry at Sherlock right now. He led us to this…this suicide plan of his and we could die. How irresponsible of him! I yell:

My god

My breathing is fast and I am pumped up in adrenaline. What was the use? There was no one to fight with. And, there was no option of flight. I could not leave Sherlock there. Besides, I may not even make it in time. I never felt angrier in my life. Sherlock would never understand responsibility. And, look where it had brought us.

Why didn't you call the police? Why do you never call the police?

I begin yelling, my mind racing with the possibility of death. I am scared for my life and Sherlock's.

So, you can't switch the bomb off?! You can't switch the bomb off and you did not call the police!

Was I going to die here?

Go John, go now

My heart breaks, looking at his expression. He is looking at me, his mouth telling me to get the hell out but his eyes begging me to stay. He was staring at me, deducing my every movement, every breath. He seemed to have forgotten about the looked at me like a man taking the biggest gamble of his life would. Of course, I realized all this later. Then, I was only thinking of possibilities that could save us. I was not giving up yet.

There's no point is there? There's not enough time and if we don't do this, other people will die!

Use your mind palace

I see a momentary gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. Maybe, Sherlock did have something in his mind palace. Sherlock thinks hard. I could see that he was thinking in a speed he never thought in before. I pray to God that he had something in his mind palace that would help us.

Sherlock looks up and there was no need for words. His face said it all.

Oh my god

The realization hits me hard. We were going to die.

This is it.

The end of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. The end of an era. Sherlock's fumbling with time fuze but I knew there was nothing that could be done. It was over. Our lives were going to end in a minute

Oh my god

I can't, I can't do it John. I don't know how. Forgive me.

What!?

Please John, forgive me. For all the hurt that I caused you.

Sherlock folded his hands, as if in prayer. I couldn't see Sherlock like this, especially if these were our last moments.

No, no, no, no. This is a trick.

My brain refused to believe that our end would be such a trivial one

No

Another one of your bloody tricks

Please say yes.

No

You are just trying to make me say something nice

Not this time

Sherlock smiles, but it seems forced.

It's just to make you look good even though you behaved like…

For the first time, my brain worked in a speed that could rival Sherlock's. All the decisions that I had made, all the things that I could have done better, all the things that I was yet to do…they all came crashing down in my mind. My memories with Harry, my regret about Harry's drinking, the fallout between Dad and Harry because of her sexuality, my Mom's cooking, my school days, my girlfriends, my college days, days in the Army, meeting Sherlock. Sherlock. As I walked down memory lane in the speed of light, I realized I wasn't angry at Sherlock. There was no point in being angry with him now. I felt gratitude for the man who was now going to kill me. Without Sherlock, every day would have felt like death. I was a breathing corpse before I met Sherlock. And, if this was what I had to pay, I would do it.

I wanted you not to be dead

Yeah, well, be careful what you wish for

If I hadn't come back, you wouldn't be standing there, and you'd still have a future...

Yeah, I know

Sherlock. I bloody know, okay? I did not want to see Sherlock like this, kneeling in front of me, a face that spoke of desperation, hands joined as if I were God. If my forgiveness truly meant that much for him, I would gladly give it. I did not want to spend our last moments together in regret for unspoken things. I would tell him. I would tell him everything. My last words will be I love you, Sherlock Holmes.

Look, I find it difficult. I find it difficult, this sort of stuff.

I know

You were the best and the wisest man that I have ever known.

Sherlock looks up, as if he was unable to believe the words that were coming out of my mouth. I never realized that my opinion mattered so much to him. That I mattered so much to him.

Yes, of course, I forgive you

Sherlock was completely giddy. Ecstatic. He felt like jumping in the air. He instead settled for hysterical laughter.

Not before he sent his text.

You had your test. I said the very words, "Go John, go now." He replied "There's no point is there? There's not enough time and if we don't do this, other people will die!" We. The thought of running away alone does not cross his mind. There are several other pointers, you can check the video feed. Thank you, brother mine. I no longer have cold feet – SH

A/N: There are two types of bomb fuzes. An impact fuze detonates a bomb when the projectile strikes its target, and a time fuze acts after a controlled delay.


	7. Chapter 7

I was angry at Sherlock. Angry did not even cover it. I am sure there is no word that could describe how I am feeling right now. After the relief that came with the realization that we were not going to die, I was angry at Sherlock for manipulating me. It was like a reality check. That Sherlock paid a lot of attention to me as well as the fact that he often manipulated people's emotions. He was a good actor and certainly had the ability of making someone fall for him if need be. I stopped, startled at my realization.

What if….I couldn't even put it into words. What if I was an experiment?

I shake my head, trying to shake off all the negativity I was feeling. No matter what, I had fallen for him. I would tell him. I do not want to regret not telling him. I did not want Sherlock to be my biggest what if.

Why did I fall for him? Easy, really. Attention. Seriously, who could not fall for the amount of attention he showed, despite my sexuality, despite everything?

Attention. He knew what my favorite color was. He knew that I hated him shooting the walls. He knew of my adrenaline fix, he knew of my days in the Army, he knew how I injured my shoulder. He knew the things that would set me off. He knew how to calm me. Once, I was beyond mad at him when I found an eyeball in the cup I poured my coffee in. I was about to drink it! He didn't apologize, he just ran, yes ran, out of 221 B when I yelled at him. However, I found a new office chair in the consultation room of the hospital. It took me an hour to trace it back to Sherlock (he came in disguised but I could recognize him in the video feed). How he knew I hated the chair, I will never know. Funny thing was, I never told him any of this. He knew, though.

Attention. The sad truth was he paid the same amount of attention towards everyone, towards everything. Nothing sadder than unrequited love

Attention. I paid attention too. Hard not to, when you are in this deep. He always said preferring one thing over the other without any reason was completely irrational and thus alien to him. However, he did slip. He did have favorites. He loved dogs. He liked the wind - I discovered this when I realized that he preferred a bike over a car. He built up his knowledge of London by being a cab driver (I found a cab license while cleaning Sherlock's room). He hated birthdays. Not just his, everyone's. He seemed to have no idea as to what qualified as a present and what did not. One birthday he gave me a watch I wanted but could not afford. The next birthday, however, he gave me an essay which basically said that all my friends hated me.

The biggest secret? He was an empath. He pretended that he did not understand emotions – on the contrary, he understood them too much. That was the reason he had no friends. He could see that most of them talked to him because they needed his help. That was also the reason he loved Mrs. Hudson. She loved him just for him being him, not because of his money, looks or intellect. He was an intense person. The Holmes' boys didn't do things in halves. He hated with such visible intensity that the other person had no option but to cower or bully him. However, Sherlock loved with the same intensity as well. I still remember how Sherlock punished that American for hitting Mrs. Hudson. His love was the greatest gift anyone could possibly get.

Attention. Simple, really. Poets and authors went to a lot of trouble to describe love. But, really, it all boils down to the amount of attention you gave to a person.

I look at Sherlock, head bent in concentration over some experiment near the kitchen table. I smile. He was worth it, worth the hassle of body parts, worth risking your life for, running around criminals all day. I am in too deep, I realize.

I open my laptop, intending to post on my blog. I type the heading:

Attention-Seekers.

After the fire in the kitchen, I went out to buy Sherlock's gift for his birthday. There was a month left but I wanted to be ready. Some of the things had to be bought now. I find the place I was looking for.

Surprisingly, the thing which I thought would burn a hole in my pocket turned out to be very cheap. Cheapest of all my gifts, in fact. (I always liked getting multiple gifts when I was a kid and figured Sherlock did too)

I find all the things I am looking for. I get them all wrapped and hide them in my locker at the hospital. I wanted to genuinely surprise Sherlock.

I looked at the empty room. John wasn't home yet. I talk to my skull (friend. Well, when I say friend….)

"Strange. Grocery shopping did not usually take this long. How do I know he's been grocery shopping? Obvious, isn't it? Of course you don't, you don't have a brain" I chastised the skull, fully knowing how stupid it sounded.

"Well, dummy, he took his card when he left. Okay, why grocery? Dull. That's the only thing he goes shopping for. John is a huge fan of online shopping. Okay, why online shopping? This one is really obvious. His shoulders hurt when he goes out in the cold. It's December, not exactly a nice time to be running around the city. What if he went to buy something important? Balance of probability, dear skull"

I looked out of the window. John was coming back with two heavy grocery bags from the direction of the grocery store. I smile at the skull. Sherlock one, skull zero.

Thanks again, Molly. Sherlock does not know – JW

It's ok, John. Grocery shopping is fun – MH

So, where are we on the party arrangements? – JW

I've made sure that the venue is available. I also sent invites. You should find out Sherlock's favorite flavor and book the cake –MH

I will, I will. I just don't know how to do it – JW

You'll think of something. Oh, and I am arranging the food and alcohol. – MH

Molly, don't spend too much –JW

No, no. Mycroft wants to pay for everything :) –MH

John had a sneaking feeling that Mycroft paid for his gift too.

Oh, good then. Goodnight Molly. – JW

Goodnight John – MH


	8. Author's note

Author's note:

The story is now being continued as a part of a story called The Treasure Hunt becasue I really wanted that fic to be readable as a standalone. Sorry for the inconvenience.

The people who are going to read that for the first time don't know it's Sherlock's birthday. Shh!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


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